


Who Could Learn to Love a Beast?

by Onceuponymous



Series: You Don't Remember the Prince, Do You [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast AU, M/M, Sorry Girls, The girls all show up too but since they don't get major roles I'm not going to clog up their tags, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-05-03 09:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onceuponymous/pseuds/Onceuponymous
Summary: Prince Rich and his attendant Jeremy each made a deal with the fairy known as the Squip, only to have their wishes twisted into curses.  Two years later, Jake wants more than his lonely life in his small village.  When he goes into the forbidden forest to find his lost best friend Michael, he finds a castle hidden away in the dark.  A spirit of the air warns him that the master is an ill-tempered beast, but Jake's not leaving.





	1. Prologue

Prince Richard Goranski had fallen off of horses before.  Broke his arm one time, let it heal, went back to the stables to prove that he wasn’t afraid, and broke his leg.  He swore that the nickering whenever he went anywhere near the paddocks was horsey laughter.  He couldn’t even go near the front of carriages because that big head of the horse pulling it would swivel around, bare its teeth at him, and promise to eat his fingers it he tried anything.

Thus, Jeremy and Rich were going into the Enchanted Forest on foot.  Jeremy babbled as they went.  “This is the better idea anyway, because, like, the rest of the royal family would notice missing horses,” _like Dad and the brother actually in line for the throne would notice anything but themselves,_ “And horses would attract a bunch of attention from whatever lives in this forest.  They might not go in at all, since, can’t they sense danger?  Not that it’s dangerous!  I mean, it is, but I’m not afraid to go in.  It’s not too bad of a walk, even, what with my long legs.  N-not that you’re too short to make the walk!”

Rich told him to shut up or he’d cave his face in.

Jeremy was a good attendant, in general.  He was scared shitless of Rich, but he was polite and worked hard.  The thing Rich would never tell him was that Jeremy could do a lot better.  If he was comfortable around you, he had a kind of charisma that made him easy to talk to.  He felt like a friend you’d always known and trusted.

Not that Rich would know about friendship with Jeremy.  Or anyone.  He was stupid, clumsy, gross, weak, forgettable, stagnant, idle.

_Stop thinking about that.  You’re going to fix it._

There are legends about a fairy who lives in the woods.  If you offer him enough gold, he’ll grant your wish.  Pretty stupid sounding, but Rich had done some research.  There were multiple records in the castle archives of monster-slayers suddenly rising up from absolute nobodies.  They had abilities that could only be described as magical.  Their backgrounds tended to be vague, but of course record-keepers searched out whatever could be found, and over and over there were mentions of travels to the forest and the disappearance of treasure.

So Rich was going to give this a shot.  Sneak off with some of dear old dad’s jewelry when he’s passed out drunk: done.  He had payment.  Getting backup was supposed to be the easy step: march right up to Jeremy, tell him to prepare packs for them both and to get his hiking shoes.  Jeremy had asked why.  Rich said it didn't matter, he'd given him an order.  Jeremy asked where they were going.  Rich said he'd find out when they got there!  Jeremy said he couldn't very well pack if he didn't have any idea what to pack for.  Rich said, okay, the middle of the Enchanted Forest, now hurry up!  Jeremy freaked out about how Rich was gonna get killed, what the hell, what could possibly be worth going into the death-forest??  Rich gave up and spilled his whole plan.  Whatever.  He had Jeremy with him now.

They were each carrying some water, some food, and a bundle.  Rich wondered what was in Jeremy’s, but like hell was he going to ask.

They walked for hours and ended up eating every provision.  “Spare prince found dead in woods,” wonder how the kingdom would react to that news.

“Many fates could await you here, but dying is in remarkably few of them.”

“Who said that?”  Rich whipped around.  The voice was measured, almost melodic.

“Oh, I’m a who.  I’d grown quite used to being a ‘what,’ but if that’s your preference.”  There wasn’t anyone in the sunlit clearing they’d staggered into, and then there was. 

The man’s robes were the green of young grass, and they dangled with cut sleeves and hanging tassels.  They sparkled like dew.  His hair was black and curled tightly to his head.  His eyes glowed the color of lightning.  He had no wings, no magic wand, and yet somehow Rich knew.

“So you’re the fairy.”  Stupid.  He knew better than to say “s” words with his lisp, and now he led right out with one.

“Welcome to the realm of the supernatural quality ultimate improvement pactmaker.  You may call me “The Squip”

_Not calling him that._

Rich stepped forward.  “You grant wishes for gold, right?”

“A crude summary.  I make deals, young man.  Give me something of value to you, and I can work magic to give you what you want.”

Rich emptied his bag into his hand, then stuck out a fist.  He uncurled his fingers to reveal a pile of gold and jewels.  “How much can I get for this.”

“Hmmm.”  The fairy must move fast, because Rich didn’t see him walk over.  He was just suddenly looming over the treasure.  “Not only is this human capital, but it’s an act of bravery and vengeance against your one remaining blood progenitor.  Not bad at all.  I can do quite a lot with an offering like this.”

“Good.  I want to be strong, I want to be big and fast and powerful, all commanding and shit.  I want to be like the tough guys: you know, hairy, muscly, all that stuff.  And if you just give me a workout regimen or something, I’ve _tried_ that, it just —" The fairy held out a hand.  Rich bit his lip and stopped himself from going on any further.  He dumped the rings into the fairy's palm.

“I will give you what you have asked for.  But first…”  He turned to Jeremy.  “I believe you want to ask something of me as well?”

“I was, uh, I was hoping I could ask you in private?”  The fairy stared.  Jeremy sighed.  “I want control.  I want to be more than this anxious, awkward mess.  I want people to stop staring at me like I’ve just committed the worst possible social response, to stop running into me when I go through the halls.  I…”  He blushed, then dug in his pack.  “I have this?  It’s got embroidery on it, I figure that’s worth something.”

“Oh, it’s worth much more than that, young man.”  He snatched the white blouse Jeremy had held out.  “You did not want to give this up.  You’ve held onto this for a year, considering it a symbol of the lady-in-waiting you wish so badly to romance.”

Rich gawked openly.  Sensing Rich’s stare, Jeremy murmured, “I didn’t _steal_ it.  She gave it to me when I got locked out and needed something dry to… nevermind.”

“Your pacts are sealed.  And now, I’ll get to work.”  The Squip snapped his fingers.

A jolt went down Rich’s spine.

Was that it?  He looked down at himself.  Nothing had changed!

He glowered and looked back up at the fairy, ready to tell this fucker off, when there was another jolt.  And another.  They kept getting more intense.  He stubbornly tried to stay standing, but one brought him to his knees, and another to curled up on the ground.  He clenched his jaw, but it soon forced itself open in a scream.  It _hurt!_

Something was happening.  He could barely make out the sensations; the jolts had turned into waves of agony.  Between waves, there was an itch all over his skin.  His bones ached like they were being pulled at each end.  He still felt the screams still coming from his throat, but they didn’t sound like his voice anymore. They sounded like roars.

He… he had to get out of here… had to… get away.  Rich tried to pull himself to his feet, but something was wrong with his balance and he fell over to all fours.  Some instinct made him move anyway, a loping motion that carried him surprisingly fast.  Thorns tried to scratch him, but something made them rebound off his skin.

The pain subsided as Rich got further away, and with it his head cleared.  What was he doing?  Clearly, that fairy had just tried to kill him, and Rich had left Jeremy alone and defenseless with it!  

Rich hurtled to a stop, began turning around — and caught sight of his body.

He was huge.  He was covered in hair.  Judging by the broken branches and deep tracks along his path, he was strong and fast.

He had _claws_.  A tail, legs bent the wrong way, clothes that had torn at the seams around an inhuman form.  He raised a hand to his head, and felt _horns_.

Panic.

Run.

The fairy did this, Rich and Jeremy could make him fix it.

He forced himself to stay on two feet this time, began a sprint — and slammed into something.

There was nothing there.

He couldn’t go forward.

There was nothing there, but the air was solid and he placed a hand against it and it was solid and he moved to either side and it was solid and he punched at it and clawed at it and slammed his body against it and it was solid and he threw his head back and _ROARED_.

* * *

“And as for you.”  The Squip turned to Jeremy, still smiling pleasantly.

“What d-did… did you _do!_ ”  Jeremy’s body was hunched over oddly, as though he couldn’t decide whether to get into a fighting stance or to curl up and hope to remain unnoticed.  His face betrayed the same conflict, righteously horrified at the way the Squip had just _warped_ the prince, and terrified of who he had just provoked with his outburst.

“I fulfilled his wish.  And now I’m going to fulfill yours.”  The Squip passed one arm behind his back, and when he pulled it out again he was holding a sword.  “Slay him.  The blade is enchanted; you can’t lose.”

Jeremy stared.

“Oh, don’t look at me like there’s a catch.  Please.  You think you’re going to be executed for murdering the prince?  My word is my bond, and if you take this offer, everyone _will_ be led to believe that you did all you could, but the horrible monster killed Rich.  And you took down a killer of the royal family!  Imagine the accolades _that_ will net you.”

Jeremy mustered some courage.  “You said, you said that dying wasn’t in our fates.”

“I said dying wasn’t in _your_ fates _here_.  Rich won’t die in my clearing — a creature will die in the forest.  You can still find him.  You won’t be an errand-boy, you’ll be a hero.  And you can keep the sword, keep doing great deeds, keep being an entirely new Jeremy.”

Jeremy hesitated.  He thought about the promise.  He thought about how Prince Rich scowled at him, piled up errands and watched as Jeremy did them, mocking him for not working faster.  He thought about being hailed as a champion, maybe being made a knight.  He thought about the lady in waiting throwing her arms around him and praising him.

Then Jeremy looked at the sword, bright silver and flawless. No nicks from hacking against bone, no rust red stains from blood soaking the metal.  Only his eyes were reflected in it.  He imagined himself doubled over, panting from the deed he had just done, and looking at the reflection to see a body slumped over behind him.

“N-no.  No, I’m going to find Rich, and I… I can’t let you hurt him!”

Something happened in the Squip’s eyes, and the clearing flashed like there had been a lightning strike.  But the fairy kept smiling.  “Very well.  And Jeremy?  You did pay me, so you _will_ get your wish.”

Jeremy stayed frozen, until the Squip shouted, “Go!”  Then he ran.

* * *

The Squip watched the page run off.  So he would not be the one this story was about.  Fine.  The Squip had grown strong off the power of fulfilling many time-old tales, seeing to it that princes found princesses, witches met their ends in fire, and that monsters were slain.  All with each party entering the contract, fair and justly.

The Squip knew of another story that could be used.  A hidden home, a guest that was taken into the monster's trust, and a betrayal.  It would require patience, but the older stories had even more power within them.  So the Squip conjured that which was needed, and waited.  Released the energy binding the young man's wish and shaped the magic as necessary, and waited.  Confirmed that things were as they should be, relinquished this human-seeming form, and prepared to wait until the hero arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Squip's POV sections, he doesn't self-refer using any pronouns. This is not meant to code him as nonbinary; rather it's supposed to reflect how he doesn't view himself the same way humans do, since he's a fae creature. He likes people to refer to him as he/him. (Squip portrayals who _are_ nonbinary are incredibly valid, it's just that if I made Squip nonbinary here he'd be the only NB character AND inhuman/evil/other, which has... not-great connotations)
> 
> I actually do have some stories in mind for "A hidden home, a guest that was taken into the monster's trust, and a betrayal." The myth of Eros and Psyche, East of the Sun and West of the Moon, and Bluebeard. Of course, the first two end with the guest and "monster" falling in love, and the last ends with the guest dying, but those are _details_.


	2. Provincial Life

Jenna’s voice soared where anyone else’s would have been swallowed up by dust and old paper.  “Jake, it’s three past noon!”

“Almost done, boss!”  Jake shuffled a few more sheaves into the box he was bent over, then hauled the whole thing over his head onto the shelf.  “That’s, what, a third of the old newspapers sorted? I bet I can get it up to half tomorrow.”

“Yeah, because if you don’t pick up the pace, I’m gonna fire your ass and you’ll be out on the street.”  Jenna crossed her arms, standing in the doorway to the back room where Jake had been working for the past hours.  “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help, honey, but you’ve got a mansion. Why do you need the salaries from a half-dozen jobs around town?  ”

“You know me, I just like helping out.”  Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I gotta get to Brooke’s, so I’ll catch you tomorrow.”  He tried to slip past Jenna, but she blocked the doorway.

“Did you know I’m friends with the tax collector?  If you inherited anything else from your merchant parents, say, a massive debt you’re secretly working to pay off, I can —“

“I’m _fine,_ Jenna,” Jake said, more forcefully than he’d intended.  This time, he pulled Jenna out of his path. Yes, this was exactly what “fine” people did.  At least she didn’t protest any more.

Jake shook his head to clear it, and by the time he was out on the street, he was smiling and waving, calling to villagers by name.  He’d worked in Mr. Sbarro’s bakery, dated Carly Rae, hung out around the shop of Mr. Iconis and Mr. Tracz; everyone knew Jake. Liked him, too.  It was natural that a rich guy would end up popular, but being strong, handsome, and charming was where Jake stocked his worth.

“Jake!”  He hadn’t reached the bakery yet, but Brooke was already running into the street and tackling him.  She'd been his friend for only a year or two, but she loved showing her affection through touch. Jake… really, really did not mind having someone he could go to any time for a hug.  “No work at the dairy today, we closed early!”

“What for?”  

Brooke clapped excitedly.  “There’s a traveling actors’ troupe come to town, and their first play’s today!  Are you coming?”

Jake almost said yes, but then Brooke continued, “Chloe’s holding a spot for us right near the front!” and his mouth went dry.

Chloe Valentine.  They’d dated, but broken up after an argument about how Jake was flighty and never really cared about anything or anyone.  But then Chloe wanted to get back together. The two of them kept going on and off, and lately Chloe seemed to want to go on again.  Jake didn’t want to deal with her today.

He cleared his throat.  “I’m probably gonna go back home and check on Michael, actually.  You don’t gotta wait up for me.”

Brooke made her disappointed-puppy eyes, but relented.  Jake did head towards home, but he remembered Michael was going to be out.  He imagined spending the next hour lying down on the couch. Dusting shelves of books neither of them were going to read.  Staring again at family portraits.

Spending an hour with nothing to do and no one around but his own thoughts.

Jake doubled back.  He could get lost in the crowd at the play, no need to join Brooke and Chloe.

The curtains set up in the town square were easy to find, and the audience’s clamoring let Jake know he hadn’t missed the start of the play.  It wasn’t long before a middle-aged, balding man with a beard stepped out. “Welcome, one and all, to Troupe Reyes’ production of _Pyramus and Thisbe_!”

The play opened with “Pyramus” standing on one side of a wood-and-plaster “wall,” and a beautiful young lady playing Thisbe on the other side.  The two characters spoke of how much they loved each other, and how they planned to defy the feuding parents that kept them apart. Pyramus kept cracking crude jokes about "Thisbe's hole,” ostensibly referring to the crack in the wall through which they spoke.  The jokes made the audience laugh, but (judging by Thisbe’s shocked and upset expression), they weren’t part of the script. The lovers agreed to meet the next night at Ninus’ tomb under a mulberry tree, where, as Pyramus said, “they could finally feel each other’s sweet touch.”

Black-clad stage crew members arrived with a paper moon and a potted tree, while others shuffled away with the wall.  Thisbe re-entered the stage, wondering where her love was. Suddenly, the balding man from earlier jumped out!

He was clearly doing his best to be intimidating.  He had bits of many animal costumes on: donkey’s ears, a lion’s mane, bat wings, a dragon’s tail, long claws, exaggerated teeth.  He roared, and orange and red paper streamers unfurled as fiery breath. Jake recognized the depiction. There were folk tales in all of the villages that bordered an enormous forest.  A weak wire-and-wood fence had sprung up in its depths, but no one knew who had laid it. What they did know was that anyone who crossed it was never seen again. Dogs went missing, and there was hearsay of glimpses of a figure seen between the trees.  It all came together into a story of a monster who lived in the woods and ate unwary travelers. Some villages claimed it was a dragon, some a chimera. Jake’s town, Deux Fleuves, preferred describing it as a sort of yeti. The troupe was apparently splitting the difference among depictions.

Thisbe made an aside that she should hide and wait for the creature to pass.  She fled, long skirt flowing gracefully, and a shawl dropped from her shoulders.

The “monster” bent and snagged the shawl on his claws, and made a show of getting it to his teeth and shaking it around.  Pyramus entered from behind, and pantomimed shock and despair until the monster finally felt he had made enough of a performance and ran off.

Pyramus moaned that his love was lost, and therefore, he had nothing left for which to live.  He took out a wooden sword and “stabbed” himself. Jake scoffed. If he was really upset, he'd kill the monster, not just moan about it.

Thisbe reentered.  Seeing the body, she wailed.  Thisbe spoke of how young they both were, how much of her life she had wished to share with Pyramus.  Jake was pretty sure he’d seen this play before, and that Thisbe had spoken of Pyramus’s lily face, cherry lips, and cowslip cheeks.  This one talked of the way his voice lilted when he laughed, how she could whisper all her deepest secrets to him. Jake forgot the dick he’d seen on the stage, and mourned with Thisbe.

Then she pulled the sword free, held the point to her chest—

“No!”  Jake covered his mouth.  No one had noticed; his outburst had been lost in the applause.  Thisbe stood up, and there was no blood, she was _fine_ and _alive._ Pyramus, the monster, and the crew reappeared on the stage, and took a bow.  Each actor was introduced. The monster was Paul Reyes, Pyramus was Jerry Thaire, and Thisbe was played by Christine Canigula.

Christine.  What a beautiful name.

Reyes stepped off the stage to talk to villagers about the troupe's schedule.  Jake wove his way to the young actress. Clearing his throat, he said, "Hey, my name's Jake.  Will you guys be in town for long?"

Christine smiled.  "We'll be circling the villages around this area for a year before moving on, so you'll be able to find us.  I love getting to see all these different places! Any other career, and I'd just be hanging around seeing the same mountains from a distance."

"That's so cool!"  Jake paused, and continued, "If you want to get the full experience of Deux Fleuves, I could... show you around?  Like, there's this sandwich shop that does this great thing with tomatoes and cheese --"

"Jake, there you are!"  Chloe shoved her way through the throng, right up to Jake and Christine.  "First you skip out on our date, then I find you -- who's this?"

"Jake?"  Christine was confused.  "You were... "

"Chloe..." Jake started, but was cut off as Chloe threw up her hands, expression contorted in picture-perfect outrage.

"I can't believe this!  You're cheating on me?!"

"No I'm not!  I mean, Chlo, we're not even --"

Chloe acted as though she hadn't even heard Jake.  "I am so sorry, Christine, was it? You don't deserve to be caught up in all this.  This isn't the first time Jake has pulled this stunt."

"It's not!"  Jake cursed himself.  "I mean, not not the first time, it's not any time!  We're not dating, Chloe!"

Christine backed up, shaking her head slowly.  "I have to go." She turned and half ran away from the two of them.

Chloe faced Jake, tossing her hair over her shoulder as casually as though the past few minutes hadn't happened.  "You were saying something about sandwiches? You know, I could go for a bite."

Jake sputtered.  "You... Chloe, I don't want to date you!"

"You've said that before," Chloe said.

"Because you never let up!  God, I -- I'm going home."

Fortunately, this time Chloe didn't follow him.

Jake didn’t let himself in with the key in his pocket.  Instead, he knocked on the heavy wooden door of his house.  He kept knocking, letting anger and anxiety drive his fist forward and back, drumming an arrhythmic pattern.

“Take it easy man, I’m coming!” called a voice from beyond the door.

Hearing the sound, Jake visibly relaxed.  Michael Mell opened the door. “You look like ass, Jake.  Something happen?”

“Don’t get me started,” Jake said.  Michael stepped aside to let him stride into the living room and flop onto the davenport.  He muttered one word into the velvety cushions: “Chloe.”

On paper, Michael was Jake’s servant, and he was paid a weekly sum in return for keeping the large, expensive house clean.  The first week of Jake hiring the one person who hadn’t even bothered to write an application (Michael just showed up at the door, saying he saw a poster and wanted to check it out) had proved that arrangement didn’t really work.  Jake _liked_ tidying, and if Michael ever did pitch in it messed with his systems.

Jake justified Michael's employ in other ways.  He played music (though it was scales, practice, and just fucking around with a guitar more than it was actual finished pieces).  He cooked (weird snack foods and bizarre drinks like a soda that was somehow clear). He did laundry (and turned Jake's coats red).  In truth, Michael's most valuable service was that he talked.

"Kill her."  Michael turned a peg on his instrument and strummed it.

" _Obviously_ , I'm not doing that.  You didn't even hear what happened."  Jake lifted his head.

"Then lay it on me, buddy," Michael said.

So Jake told about Chloe's sabotage.

Michael set down the guitar, went over to the sofa, and patted Jake's head like a dog's.  "Just tell this girl the truth. If she doesn't believe you, then it wouldn't have worked out anyway."

"Yeah," Jake said, "but Chloe can find her too and keep telling whatever story she comes up with."

"You really want to date her?"  Michael's question wasn't judgmental, just inviting.

"You should've seen her, Michael!  She's beautiful and talented and commanded the stage so well.  I want to get to know her! I want to find out what she's into and what she likes to talk about.  And I want her to get a chance to know me." Jake pulled himself upright as he spoke.

Michael was silent.

"And..." Jake forced himself to continue.  "And it would be nice to be dating someone, to have her _there_ .  Michael, you're the only one who's really met me and _stayed._ "

"You're not giving Brooke and Jenna enough credit."  Michael looked down. They both knew who Jake was really talking about.  Then he smiled and said, "Pep talk? You're a catch. When you find someone, they're gonna see that you're a genuinely cool guy to be around.."

Jake smiled weakly.

"Tell you what," Michael continued.  "Remember that exposition I'm going to in Zneefrock?"

"Yeah, you're gonna be gone for three days," Jake said.

Michael gestured to his guitar.  "I'll bring you back an instrument and teach you to play!  That way, you can totally impress _ChristiiiIIIIIiiine._ "

Jake shoved Michael off the couch, this time grinning for real.  Maybe things would work out after all.

Michael left for the exposition the next morning.

He never returned.


	3. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm having trouble doing this as a fanfic, so I'm sort of rebooting the story as an askblog. I'm gonna see how far I can get that way. "But Michelle, you already posted this as a bullet-pointed not!fic! How many tries is this going to take??" As many as I want, I have no idea what I'm doing.

Here's the link for the askblog <https://bemorebeastly.tumblr.com>/

Thank you all for your patience with me.


End file.
